


Love Somebody Like You

by squiddz



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A series of ever more embarassingly terrible dates, Alternate Universe - How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days Fusion, Alternate Universe - Human, Brief mention of Shadwell, Eventual Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romantic Comedy, They're both pretty dumb I'm ngl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23429152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiddz/pseuds/squiddz
Summary: Advice columnist Aziraphale Fell's latest assignment is to write a dating advice article entitled “How To Lose Someone In 10 Days”. The problem is he needs to find someone to lose in the first place. Meanwhile, marketing executive Anthony Crowley is desperate to win the lead on an ad campaign for a dating app. His boss makes him a deal that he can have the account if he manages to turn up to the launch party in ten days’ time with a date of his own. When Aziraphale and Crowley meet, their plans backfire.An adaptation of the film How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days for the Good Omens Romcom Event
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 91
Collections: Good Omens Rom Com Event





	Love Somebody Like You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my contribution to the Good Omens Romcom Event!
> 
> I would first like to thank my lovely beta georgina_bulsara for their kind words and quick turnaround (seriously, thank you for putting up with me after I decided chapter 1 needed an extra 2k words at like 8pm yesterday).
> 
> Many thanks also to everyone on the GO Events discord server. You are all wonderful and supportive, and it's very likely that I wouldn't have had anywhere near enough confidence to go through with this if it weren't for you guys. Extra thanks to Amanda/bisasterdi for organising all the fun!

_Paradise.com_

Quizzes | TV & Movies | Lifestyle | Food & Health | Astrology

**Advice Angel**

By Aziraphale Fell

Posted on 1 April 2020

DEAR ANGEL: I've known my best friend for ages, our entire lives really. She’s a little off the wall (I mean, she collects antique thimbles for heaven’s sake) and doesn’t half drive me insane at times. But she's got a heart of gold too, and is without a doubt the most adorable person I've ever met. Basically, she's the best and I'm in love with her. I'm pretty sure I've been in love with her for a long time, in fact. I think she feels the same way, but she's really nervous about… feelings. Her family are pretty strict and have a lot of rules about the people she's allowed to spend time with. Seriously, her parents are massive pricks.

Anyway, not that long ago I tried asking her out on a date, and I think she wanted to say yes but she just… freaked out. I'm sure it's because she's afraid of what her family will say. Now I have no idea where our friendship stands. I don't want to lose her but I am going out of my mind with how much I'm in love with her. What do I do?—LOVESICK LADY, SHEFFIELD

DEAR LOVESICK: Well, I'm terribly sorry to hear you've been having a rough go of things. But I daresay that your friend is very lucky to have someone like you looking out for her. Feelings can overwhelm the best of us, even without meddling family members. It sounds like you perhaps went a bit too fast for her. Getting away from the influence of overbearing family can be difficult, and it's not something you can rush her into doing. I know it might feel like the end of the world, but all you can do for now is give her some space to sort out her thoughts and offer support if and when she needs it. Know that I am wishing all the best for the pair of you!

* * *

Aziraphale flicked at the scroll wheel of his mouse and mindlessly watched the home page of Paradise.com bounce up and down on his computer screen. It was all fairly incomprehensible to him, just a series of captioned images and never-ending quizzes and _why_ were those two women always shouting at that cat across the dinner table? He supposed he should probably familiarise himself with all this one day, he did write for the blasted website after all. Might actually be useful if he knew who _bae_ was, or when to describe someone as _on fleek_ —did people even still say that anymore? Why did things insist on changing so quickly these days...

The familiar ping of the new email notification brought him back to Earth with a bolt of panic. He scrambled to bring up his inbox, fumbling with his mouse in the process, but it turned out to be nothing more than another passive aggressive memo about the burnt cheese in the breakroom microwave. Decidedly _not_ the email from his editor he’d been quietly dreading since yesterday evening.

Just as he was about to start pacing around the office, a bespectacled face appeared above the top of his monitor. He exhaled slowly through his nose and tried to plaster on a smile.

“You read it then?” he asked as casually as was currently possible.

Anathema worked at the desk opposite his, and despite her more off-the-wall opinions and insistence on planning their lives around her star chart, Aziraphale had found a fiercely loyal friend in his colleague.

“I mean… Aziraphale. It’s incredible.”

The tiniest glimmer of hope sparked to life in his chest.

“It’s so poignant! And obviously well researched. I didn’t know the first thing about Somalia until I read this.” She hesitated and her eyes briefly fluttered down to look at her desk.

“But?”

Anathema tipped her head to the side and gave him the sort of look Aziraphale only ever saw when she was about to tell him that Neptune was in retrograde or some such.

“But you know they’d never publish anything like this at Paradise,” she said gently.

“Yes, I know. _I know._ " Aziraphale sighed glumly and slumped back into his plastic desk chair. “But I was rather hoping Gabriel might like it enough to consider it.”

Anathema arched one very unconvinced eyebrow above her round glasses.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he said tartly. “I just don’t want to be stuck writing a silly advice column for the rest of my life.”

“It’s not silly!” said a red-headed woman approaching from behind him. She placed a steaming mug next to his keyboard before settling in her seat at the desk next to his, hands wrapped around a hot drink of her own. “People adore your articles, my lovely.”

“Yes, _thank you_ , Tracy,” Anathema said, gesturing towards her with an open hand. “You’ve got one of the most popular series on the entire site, Az.”

It was certainly true that Aziraphale had managed some viral success with his advice column—the internet seemed to be fond of his so-called _wholesome content_. The entire thing was baffling if he was honest, and definitely not the trajectory he'd imagined for his journalistic career.

“It’s not exactly changing the world though, is it?” he replied sullenly.

“You’re making people happy, Az," Tracy said with a warm smile. "That’s a world-changing thing all on its own.”

He picked up his mug and let the delicate scent of chamomile loosen the hard knot in his stomach. It worked for all of five seconds, right up until Anathema piped up again.

"Everyone ready for the staff meeting in ten minutes?"

Aziraphale groaned into his tea. It seemed as though he'd have to ask Gabriel about his article face-to-face. Before he could feel too sorry for himself, Tracy suddenly gasped very loudly.

"Oh flippin' 'eck, the staff meeting! I've barely finished today's articles…"

Both Aziraphale and Anathema immediately snapped their heads in Tracy's direction to find her on the verge of tears. Aziraphale placed his tea back on the desk and wheeled his chair next to her. He took one of her hands and cradled it in both of his.

"Tracy dear, what's wrong?"

She stifled a tiny sob with her other hand. "Oh it's… He dumped me, Az!"

Aziraphale exchanged an exasperated glance with Anathema before giving Tracy's hand a little squeeze.

"Is this… that Shadwell chap?"

“The guy you’d been dating for _a week?_ ” Anathema added.

Tracy sniffled. "Was the best week of my life."

"Come on, Tracy," Anathema said as she stood up and tucked a laptop under her arm. "You'll be fine."

Gabriel’s office always managed to turn Aziraphale’s stomach. It was nothing but bleach-white walls and sleek angular furniture, full of all the austere comfort of a dentist's office. Aziraphale’s distaste for the office space was matched only by his distaste for Gabriel himself. The man, much like his decor, was all hard edges and manufactured style, and he seemed to, at best, barely tolerate Aziraphale’s existence. Unfortunately, he was also editor-in-chief at Paradise, which meant that it was very difficult to avoid interacting with him.

Aziraphale filed into the office along with the rest of his co-workers as Gabriel watched them all from behind a white desk whose size went far beyond practicality. Once everyone had taken a seat on the chairs and leather sofas that were scattered around the room, Gabriel rose to his feet and circled his desk, coming to a stop in front of it.

"Good morning, team!" he said, clapping his hands together far too enthusiastically. “Alright, let’s hear what you've got. Who wants to share first?"

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably on a very unforgiving white sofa. Anathema, perched next to him, followed suit. In fact, the entire room squirmed to avoid eye contact.

"Come on, don't be scared!" he boomed. "Uriel.” He pointed at Uriel, who promptly sat to attention and opened her sleek laptop. “What have you got for Food today?”

"Well, I've finished _5 Snack Ideas For Asparagus Fans_ and _4 Crêpe Recipes All Dessert Lovers Should Try_..."—Aziraphale perked up a little and Anathema rolled her eyes—"...and I think I'm making some headway on _8 Incredible Things You Can Do With Ham_ , should be done before lunch."

“Excellent,” Gabriel said, punching the air. "Make sure you get something, y'know, vegan-y in there. Always rolls in the views."

Uriel nodded and began typing furiously on the laptop balanced precariously on her knees.

“And what’s in store for our Advice Angel for the rest of this week?”

Gabriel's gaze came down on Aziraphale like the point of a diamond. He reflexively squeezed at the notebook in his hands and the pages crinkled noisily in the cavernous office space. Bugger, when had his mouth gotten so terribly dry?

“Ah, well, I was rather hoping that you’d had a chance to read the article I emailed you last night? I thought I could take the weekly _How To_ article in a different direction.”

Gabriel stared at him dispassionately, barely moving except to fix him with an unsettling too-white smile. Aziraphale had the thought that he was rather like one of those paintings one found hanging in an old manor house—far too tall, vaguely threatening, and almost certainly nothing but a brick wall behind the eyes.

“Ah yes _._ The big political thinkpiece,” he said flatly. “Well, it was provocative, that’s for sure.”

“ _Provocative_ …?” Aziraphale repeated absently. “It was about a humanitarian crisis that—”

“Oh, yeah, don’t get me wrong,” Gabriel interrupted. “My heart is breaking for the people of…”

“Somalia.”

“Right, right, Somalia,” he continued, not really sounding all that heartbroken in the slightest. “I mean, the tears were—they were _right_ here.” He put an index finger below either eye and drew a line down his cheeks. “I just don’t think people come to Paradise to read that kind of thing. Too much of a downer, ya know?”

“But…” Aziraphale floundered, still figuring out how to process Gabriel calling a famine responsible for millions of deaths _a downer_.

“Come _on_ , Aziraphale, the goal is to go viral.”

“I thought the goal was to help people,” Aziraphale replied quietly. He regretted it the moment the words left his lips. Gabriel squared his shoulders and something about his smile became reminiscent of a circling shark.

“And how exactly are you going to help anyone if your article gets 7 lousy views, hm?” There was an icy undercurrent to his voice that made Aziraphale’s fight-or-flight response veer unquestioningly towards flight. “You’re going to pick out an email from a reader, you’re going to do your quaint little... _thing_ and reply to it, and we'll all get to benefit from that ad revenue you generate. Got that?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale squeaked out.

“Good.”

Aziraphale tried his best to sink into the sofa and silently prayed for the glare from Gabriel's fluorescent teeth to just incinerate him already.

“Alright, who else wants to share?” Gabriel said with a change in tone so sharp it nearly gave the entire room whiplash. “Trace, how are we looking for our spirituality section?”

Tracy fidgeted in her seat a little as she opened her laptop, tears welling up in her eyes. Aziraphale wished she’d mentioned something sooner, he would have gladly written an article or two for her.

“I’m afraid I’ve been somewhat distracted, Gabriel, I’m sorry,” she said, sniffling a little. “I got dumped yesterday, you see.”

Shockingly, Gabriel seemed to soften and offered an understanding smile. “I’m sorry to hear that, Tracy.” He perked right back up again and rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Hey, why don’t you use that to write a really great article?”

Tracy blinked back a few tears and furrowed her brow. “Oh, I… I don’t think I’m all that comfortable using my personal experiences to get views.”

Gabriel nodded solemnly at her. “I understand.” He turned to face the rest of the room. “Who here is comfortable using Tracy’s personal experiences to get views?”

Something about the way Tracy clutched at her chest, that slightly betrayed look on her face, tugged at Aziraphale’s heart.

“I’ll do it,” he said, raising his hand tentatively. Tracy leaned forward in her chair to catch his eye and gave him a grateful smile. “I could use it to write an advice column on, erm, how not to date someone. I could, ah, talk to Tracy here, and it could be a fascinating discussion on healthy approaches to _—_ ”

“Now, this is _interesting_ , Aziraphale!” Gabriel interjected. “A dating advice article, but in reverse. What _not_ to do.” He paused and Aziraphale felt his stomach begin turning itself inside out. “Oh yes, _yes!_ You could test it out in the field.”

“Erm, sorry, what?”

“You know, go out there and actually try to date someone, but do everything in your power to drive them away. The article could be your notes from the experience, a day-by-day playthrough of all the things that didn’t work.”

"Oh, I'm not sure I'm at all comfortable with that," Aziraphale said between nervous laughter.

"Nonsense, I'm sure you'll make it all very tasteful," Gabriel said with a dismissive wave. "I can see it now. _How To Lose Someone In 10 Days_."

"Ten… ten days? Why ten days?"

"Because we've got a partnership with a new dating app that we’re announcing in eleven days, and I want your article to help give it some clout. Oh, this is too perfect."

“Well, alright _—_ ”

“Excellent!” Gabriel said in a tone that made it clear the matter was no longer up for discussion. “Who’s next?”

The rest of the meeting passed by in a blur. All Aziraphale could think about was just how much of a pickle he’d managed to get himself into.

* * *

Crowley thumped his forehead against his leather steering wheel and grimaced as the blast of a car horn ricocheted through his skull. God, he hated driving in London. Though perhaps not nearly quite as much as he hated using the tube. Or the bus. Anything that required being near other people, really. Besides, driving gave him an excuse to show off his Bentley a little bit. He forcefully reminded himself of this fact as he rolled forward another inch, trapped in the gridlock of lunch hour traffic. It was moments like these that he wished he could stop time _—_ or bend a few of the laws of physics at least.

He tapped his fingers on the head of the gear stick and fought the urge to do something reckless and almost certainly illegal. The office building of Fyre & Brimmston Marketing Ltd. was _just_ around the corner…

Whatever was left of his patience was finally shattered by the sound of yet another damnable horn. Muttering a string of curses under his breath, Crowley jerked the steering wheel and weaved the Bentley through an impossibly narrow gap in traffic. The car bumped up onto the curb and cut across the corner, earning a few rude gestures from several motorists in the process. Crowley gave them a friendly wave and swept the Bentley into a parking spot on the side of the road outside his building. Great pustulant mangled _bollocks_ to London traffic.

He took a few moments to adjust his short copper hair in the rearview mirror, making sure it was just the right amount of casually disheveled, before swiftly exiting the car. As he sauntered towards the glass doors of his office block, he caught sight of a familiar shabby figure standing on the pavement and slouched over a mobile phone. Any hopes Crowley might have harboured for salvaging his mood abruptly went up in flames. He sighed inwardly and plastered on a toothy smirk.

“Afternoon, Hastur,” Crowley said, peeking over his co-worker’s shoulder. “Paradise, eh? Taking a quiz to figure out your next career move?”

Hastur whipped around to face Crowley, his lips twisted into a horrifying scowl. “Well, I already did one for you, Crowley, and it said you’re a _—_ you're a useless bastard.”

Crowley nudged his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Excellent job, Hastur. That was very nearly funny.”

“If you must know, I was doing some research.” Hastur sniffed and looked Crowley up and down. “Not that you’d understand anything about professionalism. Ligur and I are headed to Paradise head office to discuss some permanent ad space.”

Crowley bit the inside of his cheek. If there was anything worse than being in Hastur's general vicinity, it was hearing that Hastur was on the verge of some potential success.

“Well, good luck with that,” Crowley called to him over his shoulder as he pulled the building door open. “And I’m proud of you for learning how to use a mobile.”

He allowed himself a little bit of smug satisfaction as the sound of Hastur's indignant sputtering followed him inside. Once in the relative safety of the office lobby, he let a full body shudder roll over him.

He hated Hastur and Ligur. The pair of them seemed to have made it their personal mission to make his life as miserable as humanly possible. His job was soul-crushing enough without those two sniping his clients and making back-handed comments about him to their boss.

It didn't help that they were also _incredibly_ creepy. There was just something about the way they moved _—_ skulking about the dark corridors, lurking near the coffee machine like a couple of shambling paper-pushing demons. That, and the fact they both looked like a pile of maggots shoved inside a trenchcoat. Adam had dubbed the pair _The Dukes of Hell_ , which Crowley had found amusing enough, though he’d never admit it (wasn’t like Adam’s ego needed anymore stroking, the cocky little shit).

He made his way through the maze of corridors until he came to a heavy black door bearing his name on a plaque, right above _Pulsifer_ and _Young_. It swung open with a tired creak and revealed the cramped office where his two young co-workers were already back from their lunch breaks. Adam, fresh out of both design school and fucks to give, had his feet up on his desk and a large set of noise-cancelling headphones over his ears. Newt was shuffling around on the floor, prodding an electrical outlet and struggling to make his monitor work _—_ as usual.

Crowley strode past the pair of them to where his desk stood at the far end of the office.

“Alright Crowley,” Adam said, pulling the headphones down around his neck while keeping his eyes glued to his computer screen.

Crowley gave him a nod and slouched into his black leather chair, nudging his mouse to wake up his own computer. “Either of you heard back about the Celestial Harmony account?” He brought up his email inbox, hopeful he’d had a response from Bee by now, but found nothing except for a handful of company memos and useless conversations he’d been cc’d into for some inconceivable reason. Christ, he must be the only man in all of Greater London to be disappointed _not_ to hear from his boss.

“Nah,” Adam grunted.

There was some noise from underneath Newt’s desk followed immediately by a very loud thump. “I thi _—_ ah _shit,_ my head.” Crowley rolled his eyes. Newt, god help him, was nice enough. He meant well, he tried his best. And, well, he was probably good at _something_. Exactly what, Crowley had yet to discover.

“I _think_ ,” Newt said, dragging himself up into his seat and rubbing the back of his head. “That Bee has just about made up their mind to give it to the Dukes.”

“What?” Crowley cried, jumping out of his chair so vigorously it nearly knocked Newt out of his. “Those two barely even understand what the internet is, why would Bee give them the lead on a dating app?”

Adam swiveled his chair from side to side and shrugged. “They’re good at convincing people to do things, you know.”

“And they have tons of connections,” Newt added. “I’m pretty sure they’ve got secrets on just about everyone.”

Crowley took off his glasses, throwing them on his desk with a clatter, and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Lads, this is supposed to be our account. A dating app, come on! The reach on this will be massive. We need this.”

 _I need this,_ Crowley thought to himself. The commission from this thing would be big. Big enough for him to finally tell Bee to stuff it and get out of this godawful job. Get out of London. Go find that little house with a garden he’d always wanted. Maybe… get a cat or something. Fuck, when had he become so middle-aged?

“Not our fault Bee doesn’t like you,” Adam said. Crowley glowered at him _—_ for all the good it did. The boy didn’t even spare him a look over his shoulder.

“Alright,” Crowley said, mostly to make himself calm down. “Let’s have some ideas then, shall we? How do we change Bee’s mind?”

“Dunno, convince them you’re someone else?” Adam said with a guffaw. Crowley took a deep breath and tried very hard to quell what felt like hellfire building up in his chest.

“Oh, actually,” Newt piped up. “I heard some people talking over lunch. About the Celestial Harmony thing.”

Crowley rounded on him, somewhat wrongfooted at finding himself on the verge of Newt being halfway useful. “And?"

Newt swallowed nervously. “Well I just heard that the Dukes are taking Bee out for a drink this evening. To talk about the whole thing and get in their good books.”

Of course they were.

“For fuck’s sake…” Crowley growled.

“Maybe you could drop by and talk to Bee yourself,” Adam offered.

Crowley sighed heavily. He didn't like where this was headed. “Well, do we have any idea where they’re going?”

“I do actually!” Newt said excitedly. “A pub called The Orchard, it’s somewhere in Soho.”

Crowley flopped back into his chair and rubbed at his temples. Fuck, was he really going to have to do this?

“Well then,” he said with a tight smile. “Guess I’m going out for a pint after work today.”

* * *

“Oh, come on, Az,” Anathema wheedled as they ambled back to their desks from the breakroom. “We haven’t been out in ages, and you look like you could use a stiff drink.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he settled back in his horribly uncomfortable chair. Anathema was right, he definitely felt like he needed a drink. Or four. But he was perfectly capable of doing that in the comfort of his own home. “I’m not really in the mood for going out, Anathema.”

“Oh, but you’ve got some window shopping to do!” Tracy said, prodding him in the side as she passed him to get to her own desk.

Anathema beamed at him from the other side of his monitor. “Exactly. Oh this will be _so_ much fun! You know, it’s the perfect time for you to be looking, Virgos are all about change right now. Saturn is about to shift to your fifth house, which _—_ ”

“Please stop,” Aziraphale said, hiding his face in his hands.

“You’ll be fine, Az,” Tracy said, patting him reassuringly on the shoulder. “Really, I can’t thank you enough for stepping in.”

He lifted his head to look at Tracy. She was smiling very affectionately, a tad misty-eyed, and it made Aziraphale’s heart ache all over again. Right, he was doing this for a friend. Something to keep in mind every time the thought of his assignment made his skin crawl.

“We’ll go to The Orchard, that new place near yours,” Anathema said. “Then you don’t have far to run home afterwards.”

“Unless you end up somewhere else this evening.” Tracy nudged him with her elbow and the two women burst into fits of giggles.

“God help me,” Aziraphale groaned.

“Come on,” Anathema said, a little more earnestly this time. “You owe me. I’m going to see that showing of _Hamlet_ with you at the Barbican tomorrow, remember? _Pleeease_?”

Aziraphale was readying himself for a rant about how accompanying him to a production from the Royal Shakespeare Company was in no way comparable to getting sloshed down the local pub when Anathema suddenly sat bolt upright. “Shit, Gabe’s coming up behind you.”

Before Aziraphale even had a chance to brace himself, Gabriel’s voice was already booming across the open plan office space.

“And here we have the beating heart of Paradise, our writers!”

Aziraphale turned around to find Gabriel had come to a stop next to his desk, hands clasped behind his back and flanked by two somewhat sinister looking men _—_ one tall and lanky, the other much less tall and a bit more squat.

“This here is Anathema, who writes our horoscopes, and over here is Tracy, our spiritualist. And this _—_ ” He clapped a hand down on Aziraphale’s shoulder, hard enough to make him wince. “This is Aziraphale Fell, you’ve probably heard of his Advice Angel column. It’s a pretty big deal, if I do say so myself.”

Aziraphale smiled weakly and gave a little wave. “H-hello.”

“This is Bob Hastur and Bob Ligur, they’re from an advertising agency. Big things on the horizon for us!”

Mr Ligur sniffed and jutted his chin out towards Aziraphale, while Mr Hastur simply regarded him with a pair of rather terrifyingly blank eyes.

“Aziraphale is working on a really great piece that I think could go well with the ad campaign for Celestial Harmony.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that then?” Mr Hastur said, scowling at Aziraphale as though he’d used up the last of the milk and put the empty bottle back in the fridge.

“Get this _—How To Lose Someone In 10 Days._ He’s going to date someone and tank the whole thing on purpose so he can write up some fantastic dating advice. Pretty good, huh?”

Neither Mr Hastur nor Mr Ligur looked particularly impressed, but Gabriel had all the momentum of an incredibly enthusiastic freight train. “Alright, shall we take this to my office? Get down to some hard numbers?”

Gabriel shepherded the two shambling men in the direction of his office. Aziraphale slowly turned in his chair to look Anathema in the eye.

“On second thought, you may be right about needing that drink, my dear.”

* * *

Crowley stood on the pavement, bathed in the light spilling out from the huge front window of the pub. It was loud and bright and annoyingly trendy. He shot a glance up at the sign hanging over the door _—_ a hand-painted wooden panel featuring a single red apple and the words _The Orchard_ underneath it _—_ and shoved his fingers underneath his sunglasses to rub at his eyes. This was, unfortunately, the right place. God, what he wouldn’t give to be at home on the sofa with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and his favourite episode of _Golden Girls_ blaring on the TV.

With a deep fortifying breath, he pushed through the front door and started slithering his way through the crowds. It didn’t take long for him to spot three familiar figures hunched over a table in what was quite possibly the only dark corner in the entire establishment. Crowley threw his shoulders back and swallowed down the bitter dread that was creeping up his throat.

“Well now, didn’t realise there was a team meeting this evening,” he said as he pulled out an empty seat. He draped himself over the chair and forced himself to meet Bee’s eyes across the table.

If Hastur and Ligur made his job miserable, Bee made it downright terrifying. They were small, and one might almost be tempted to say delicate, if it weren’t for the severe expression that was forever etched on that sharp face. It was the eyes that did it _—_ as hardened and black as coals, like staring into a gaping void.

“Crowley,” Hastur all but growled. “What the fuck’re you doing here?”

Crowley leaned over the table and propped himself up on his elbow, trying to feign the nonchalance he was so desperately lacking right now. “That’s not a particularly nice way to greet a colleague, is it? Was just in the neighbourhood when I saw my co-workers out for a drink and thought I’d join them. Don’t think there’s anything wrong in that.”

“Piss off, Crowley,” Ligur spat.

Bee rolled their eyes. “No need for that.” Crowley allowed himself a little smile at the gobsmacked look on Ligur’s face. “Crowley is welcome to join us. We’re discussing the Celestial Harmony account, I’m thinking of giving the project to Hastur and Ligur here.”

At that point, Hastur’s face contorted into something Crowley thought was probably meant to be a smile but looked more like something out of _Jaws_.

“Or,” Crowley said, straining to keep his voice even, “you could give the account to me.”

Bee stared at him impassively from across the table, dark beady eyes glittering in the light from the oversized hipster light bulbs that hung from the ceiling. Crowley clenched his jaw as he willed himself not to wither under that gaze.

“Very well, Crowley,” they said finally, gesturing towards him with open hands. “Convince me.”

Hastur bared his teeth and all but snarled. “But you already said that we _—_ ” Bee lifted up a hand and he immediately fell silent.

“Go on,” they said with a nod.

Crowley swallowed and straightened his spine. The three of them glared at him, the hanging lights casting long shadows across their faces. Why did it suddenly feel like he was on trial in the deepest layer of Hell...

“Look, you know I’m good with things like this,” he said earnestly. “This isn’t a niche product, you need someone who knows how to influence people on a large scale. You remember my thing with the billboards on the M25?”

Bee tilted their head thoughtfully, and Crowley felt hope start to swell in his chest. “These two have no clue how to start tackling something like this. I mean, I’d be surprised if they even knew what an app was.”

“Oi,” said Ligur defensively.

“You know I’m the right choice here,” Crowley said. He hated how much it sounded like begging, but he could feel his little house and London-free life slipping away between his fingers like sand.

“Obviously I can’t deny you’ve had some successes,” Bee said. Crowley puffed his chest a little. “But I really think Hastur and Ligur might be the better option. I know you think they’re old fashioned, but they’ve got a lot of connections that I feel could be useful for this project. And besides…” A smile cut through Bee’s face, revealing a row of small and terrifyingly sharp teeth. “You’ve got a bit of a reputation. Not really one for dating, are you?”

Hastur laughed, a sound that was not unlike a drill piercing a sheet of metal. “Yeah, maybe you need to _use_ the app, rather than market it.” He looked across the table to Ligur, and they both started cackling like a pair of crows.

Crowley grit his teeth.

Alright, so he may have mostly been involved in what might be called _casual affairs,_ and yes, perhaps it had been a few years (and then some) since there’d been anyone in his life he might describe as a _boyfriend._ But being mocked over his love life by the likes of Hastur and Ligur was beyond the pale.

“That doesn’t seem entirely fair,” Crowley said through his teeth. “I don’t think my dating history makes me any less capable of managing this account.”

“No, probably not,” Bee said coolly. “But I’m not sure Celestial Harmony would appreciate it if we put someone who hasn’t been on a date in fuck knows how long in charge of their product.”

A hot wave of anger prickled under Crowley’s skin.

“However.”

The single word froze Crowley to the chair and silenced the grating laughter coming out of Hastur and Ligur.

“Perhaps you’re right, Crowley. It wouldn’t be all that fair of me if I didn’t at least give you a chance to fix this.” There was something about the way Bee’s smile stretched across their face that made the bottom of Crowley’s stomach sink towards the sticky floor. “You know what? There’s a launch event planned for the app, in ten days’ time. If you can turn up to that with a date, I’ll make you the project lead.”

Crowley gawked at Bee, waiting for the punchline, the inevitable _just kidding,_ but it never came. Hastur and Ligur resumed their raucous laughter.

“Well, you’ve as good as lost already, Crowley,” Hastur said, clapping him on the back far harder than was necessary.

“You can’t… you can’t possibly be serious,” Crowley said, regretting every decision he’d ever made that had lead him to walking into this fucking pub.

Bee leaned back in their seat and shrugged. “Those are my terms. Take it or leave it, Crowley.”

It was an outrageous offer. And more than likely violated several labour laws. Crowley shouldn’t have even considered it. But the combination of Hastur and Ligur leering at him, and the thought of being stuck in this hellhole of a company for another few years was enough for him to admit defeat.

“Fine. I accept,” he said curtly.

“Excellent. I look forward to meeting the unwitting human you manage to drag along with you to the launch party.”

“Yeah, Crowley, best get cracking, eh?” Ligur said with a smirk.

Crowley had the painful realisation that he had not gotten himself a drink before sitting down and was now rather regretting that decision.

“We can help,” Hastur said, practically giddy with delight. “Spoiled for choice in this place.”

“Yeah, I’m alright actually, Hastur,” Crowley replied, crumpling onto the table and letting his forehead bump softly against the ring-stained surface.

Fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck._ How was this his life right now? He pressed his face harder into the table, wincing as his sunglasses dug into his cheeks, and wordlessly beseeched the ghost of Bea Arthur to grant him the strength to leave with some of his dignity still intact.

“Oh,” came Hastur’s voice above him, a little too excited. “I think I’ve just found the perfect target for you.”

The word _target_ made Crowley’s stomach lurch slightly. There was a very stilted pause before he heard Ligur chime in.

“Ahh,” he said. “Yeah, this one’s great, Crowley.”

Their sudden enthusiasm was enough for Crowley to find the resolve to lift up his head.

“What are you wittering on about?”

Hastur nodded in the direction of the bar. “The blonde git in the bowtie.”

Crowley twisted in his seat to face the bar and scanned the crowd, lifting his sunglasses to get a better look.

And then his eyes landed on a man standing awkwardly by the bar, fiddling with his sleeve and biting a very pink bottom lip.

Crowley blinked a couple of times. The man was beautiful _—_ there really wasn’t another word for it. His platinum blond hair sat in soft curly tufts on his head, and the way it caught the harsh lights above the bar almost looked like a dazzling halo around his head. _Like an angel,_ he thought, before frowning at how ridiculously cheesy that was.

It seemed hard to believe that _this_ was the person Hastur and Ligur had pointed out for him.

Or… maybe not. After all, he did look to be Crowley’s polar opposite, all wrapped up in a cream knit cardigan and wearing a _fucking bowtie_ to a pub. God he looked soft and warm and not at all like someone who would ever be interested in a horrible lanky creature like Crowley.

Ligur barked with laughter. “If you managed to turn up with the professor over there, Hastur and I would gladly let you take the account.”

Crowley flicked his sunglasses back down over his eyes and dragged himself to his feet in one fluid motion. “Fine. I hope you’re ready to meet him properly in ten days.”

A horrible cacophony of laughter erupted from behind him as he left the table. He headed towards the bar, trying very hard to ignore what felt like a heavy stone sitting at the bottom of his stomach. He just needed to view this like a job _—_ he was good at convincing people to buy things, wasn’t he? Except in this particular instance he was trying to convince this very pretty man to buy that Crowley was even worth his time, and that felt more than a little impossible.

He slid through the crowds and sidled up next to the blonde stranger, leaning against the bar flirtatiously. Or, what he hoped was flirtatious. He’d never been this nervous approaching someone before, and he’d have probably felt somewhat humiliated by that if he hadn’t already reached his cap for the evening.

Before he had the chance to bottle it, the gorgeous man turned his head and stared at him owlishly. This close up Crowley was able to see that the man’s eyes were actually twinkling, like there were fucking stars in them or something.

“Can I buy your next drink?” he said, proud of how smoothly the words managed to come out of his mouth. The blonde man’s eyebrows started lifting towards his hairline and a splash of pink appeared on his lovely round cheeks.

“Erm, well, I just bought this glass of wine,” he said quickly. His gaze trailed off to the side as though he was thinking something over, before darting back to Crowley. “But… you could perhaps buy the next one?”

The man smiled nervously, and Crowley could barely keep his eyes off those pink lips. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked and was briefly overcome with the outrageous urge to kiss them. Oh, he was _so_ fucked.

“My pleasure,” he said, plastering on his best charming smile in the vain hope he didn’t just look like a lecherous perv. “Name’s Crowley, by the way.”

“Aziraphale,” replied Aziraphale.

Crowley flagged the bartender and ordered himself a whiskey.

“Well then, Aziraphale. Got any plans for the evening?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://heavens-bookshop.tumblr.com)!


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